


Dawn in Caerleon

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e01 Arthur's Bane, Infidelity, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin freezes. If Arthur’s asleep and thinks he’s Gwen, he surely wouldn’t be looking for laces or breeches.<br/>Fuck.<br/>“Arthur—,” Merlin says urgently. He tries to turn around and wake Arthur, but halfway there he sees Arthur looking down at him, very much awake and alert. His eyes search Merlin’s, and all Merlin can see is a familiar plea. Merlin’s breath catches in his throat; how can he deny him this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn in Caerleon

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely related to episode 5.01. This is probably my first and last attempt at anything purely smutty/without a proper plot in it (at least for now).

Merlin puts Arthurs boots by the fire once he’s finished cleaning them. He looks over his shoulder. Arthur’s already in bed, splayed out comfortably under the covers. Merlin eyes his bedroll on the floor by the fire and sighs. He takes off his boots, jacket, and neckerchief. Merlin gasps at how cold it is on the floor when he finally stretches out. He gets up and shuffles his bedroll as close to the fire as possible. He bumps into the chair and knocks it over.

“Merlin.”

He stands up and looks back at Arthur.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. Merlin turns his back to Arthur and keeps rearranging his bedroll.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get to sleep, sire,” Merlin says stiffly.

“Come here.”

Merlin drops his things and walks over to Arthur.

“Something you need?” he asks.

“Get in the bed, Merlin.”

Merlin stares, waiting for some reason, some explanation, but he gets nothing.

“Just… get in before I change my mind,” Arthur grumbles. He pulls the covers back on the other side of the bed. Merlin hurries around to the other side and climbs onto the bed before Arthur can come up with something else to say. The sheets are soft and warm, the pillow like a cloud under his head. He hasn’t felt so comfortable in ages.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Merlin realizes he might have moaned aloud.

“Uh.”

“Go to sleep, Merlin.”

Arthur turns over, facing away from Merlin. Merlin lies staring at the canopy over the bed until the exhaustion of the voyage to Caerleon catches up to him. When it does, it hits him like a blunt object over the head.

 

* * *

 

 

When Merlin wakes the next morning, he’s not exactly surprised to be hard as the bedposts. He can’t help that Arthur has that effect on him, even after all these years. What _is_ surprising is Arthur wrapped snugly around him, his arm tight on Merlin’s waist, his hand hovering dangerously close to his cock.

Merlin tries to extricate himself from Arthur’s arms – wonderful as it feels, he’s asking for trouble if he stays, and his erection’s becoming painful with Arthur’s breath tickling the back of his neck. He tries to move his arm, but Arthur’s too deeply asleep to let him go. Merlin attempts instead to slide out toward the far end of the bed, but after a short movement, he feels something hard and insistent prodding his backside. Merlin moves, and Arthur bloody _moans_. He plants his parted lips on Merlin’s neck close to his shoulder and kisses him. He nuzzles into Merlin’s neck and starts to move his hand, moving across Merlin’s stomach to the laces of his breeches.

Merlin freezes. If Arthur’s asleep and thinks he’s Gwen, he surely wouldn’t be looking for laces or breeches.

_Fuck_.

“Arthur—,” Merlin says urgently. He tries to turn around and wake Arthur, but halfway there he sees Arthur looking down at him, very much awake and alert. His eyes search Merlin’s, and all Merlin can see is a familiar plea. Merlin’s breath catches in his throat; how can he deny him this? He gives Arthur an imperceptible nod.

Arthur captures Merlin’s lips, and Merlin responds vigorously. He plunges his tongue into Merlin’s mouth, running the tip along Merlin’s lips before properly fucking him with it. Merlin reaches a hand between them and opens Arthur’s breeches. His hard, heavy cock falls out. Merlin takes the weight of it in his hand and groans into Arthur’s mouth in anticipation. Arthur responds in kind to the slow drag of Merlin’s hand as he twists just right on his cock, rubbing the slit at the head with the calloused pad of his thumb.

“ _Fuck_ , Merlin—”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

“Arthur—”

That’s not how they’ve done things. This only ever happens when _Arthur_ needs it. It’s never really about Merlin, no matter how much he enjoys it and wants it.

“Please, Merlin. Just do _something_.”

Merlin resists the urge to roll his eyes. He shifts his legs and rolls Arthur over onto his back instead. Arthur stares up shocked, eyes wide and dark and ravenous. He sits up long enough to get Merlin’s shirt off, but Merlin shoves him back down. Merlin slides down Arthur’s body, pressing wet kisses down the middle of his torso while he works his trousers off. Merlin reaches his cock and kisses his way down it until he’s just tasting, running his tongue over the skin, drinking in the bitter taste, inhaling the scent of Arthur as deeply as he can. Merlin grips Arthur’s cock by the base and wraps his lips around the head. He moves his mouth and hand closer together and looks up at Arthur. He’s watching, his chest rising hard and fast. Merlin can’t help staring at Arthur’s red, red lips as he swallows him down as far as his throat will let him. 

Merlin sucks Arthur’s cock until he can taste the pre-come fill his mouth. Merlin pulls off. Arthur looks at him wildly.

“What are you doing?” he asks hoarsely. He looks so loose, so relaxed, and simultaneously scandalized, looking between Merlin and his full, wet cock in confusion.

“You’ll see.”

Merlin removes the rest of his own clothes and reaches behind himself. He’s never done this before for Arthur. Some man he met in a tavern far from Camelot showed him how to ride a man, said it gave the one being taken just as much pleasure as the one doing the taking. Merlin did it for him and learned that the man hadn’t lied at all. The only times he’s come harder than then have been with Arthur on dark, cold mornings like this.

Arthur sits up halfway and brings Merlin’s face close to his, cupping his neck. He kisses him gently, more gently than usual, in a way that Merlin has only ever seen him do for Guinevere.

He pushes her out of his mind as he adds a second finger and scissors himself. Arthur runs one hand down Merlin’s arm, following him to his hole, and tentatively adding another finger to his own. Merlin gasps. His fingers are inexplicably oily. Arthur kisses his cheek, his jaw, the space under his ears, as he fucks Merlin’s hole with his fingers. Merlin frees his hand and grips Arthur’s side.

“I can be helpful,” Arthur murmurs, mouthing at Merlin’s ear.

Merlin starts to pull back. Arthur starts to move, too, but Merlin puts a hand on his chest and throws him back onto the pillows.

“Just… lie there. Let me do the work.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s cock and strokes it a few times. He finds the oil and lathers some more on him, but he wants to feel the burn of it. Merlin guides Arthur’s cock to his hole and Merlin lowers himself slowly. His legs are quivering visibly by the time he’s fully seated. Merlin curls his fingers on Arthur’s chest, digging a nail into the skin by his nipple. Merlin rolls his hips once he feels he’s fully in control. Arthur groans loudly between pants. Merlin bends down and kisses him.

“Best to stay quiet, sire,” he murmurs before sitting back up. He lifts himself halfway off his cock before sliding back down just as slowly. Arthur’s hands are digging into Merlin’s arse painfully by the time he’s seated again.

“Gods above,” Arthur breathes.

Merlin grins at him and starts to move in earnest. He picks up the pace, the slow burn becoming more of a pleasant slide, the oil leaking out down Merlin’s legs, sliding onto Arthur where he brackets his hips. He rides him hard until Arthur’s making increasingly desperate whimpering noises, clearly struggling to keep quiet. Merlin, on the other hand, can’t quite hit the right spot, but he nearly comes at the sight of Arthur’s face. He grips his cock at the base, licks his lips, and wills himself to go on.

“Merlin—”

That’s all the warning he gets before Arthur flips them over and pounds him into the mattress, Merlin hanging on to Arthur with his heels digging into Arthur’s legs, his nails dragging across his back. Merlin gasps when Arthur changes the angle slightly and hits his prostate full on. Merlin grabs the headboard and tightens his grip on Arthur with his legs. Arthur’s rhythm starts to falter. Merlin grabs his cock and starts to stroke himself.

“Come on, Arthur.”

He thrusts _hard_ , twice, Merlin rolling his hips down on Arthur simultaneously. Arthur comes loudly, barely stifling the cry escapes his perfect red lips. Merlin follows, failing just as miserably to remain silent. His cock pulses hotly between them, a trail of white seed splattered across their chests. Merlin relishes the feeling of Arthur coming inside him, the wetness and weight it leaves when Arthur finally pulls out. He lets his legs fall apart, loose and nimble and tired. Arthur, still panting as though he’s just fought all his knights blindfolded, presses his face to Merlin’s neck.

“Where on earth did you learn how to do that?” he mumbles, pressing his lips to Merlin’s collarbone.

“As I said, sire. I have many talents.”

“I’m glad you showed me that one.”

“Arthur… I understand why we do this. I truly do,” Merlin starts. Arthur pulls away instantly. “Arthur. Wait.”

“You swore you wouldn’t bring it up,” Arthur says coolly.

“Gwen is my friend, Arthur. I – I love you. I understand why we do this,” he repeats, ignoring the way his heart skips when Arthur looks at him on the word _love_ , “but I can’t stand hurting her.”

“She knows, Merlin,” Arthur sighs.

“What?”

“She knows. Guinevere is a very intelligent woman,” Arthur says wearily. He draws closer to Merlin again. “She knew long before we married. I love her, and she loves me. She knows me almost better than anyone.”

“Almost?”

Arthur doesn’t respond other than by taking Merlin’s hand in his. He turns Merlin’s face toward his and kisses him, just like he kisses Gwen.

“I care deeply about Guinevere,” Arthur says quietly, “and I care deeply about you. Trust that I’d never deliberately hurt either of you.”

“I know. I do,” Merlin says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Merlin. You don’t need to worry about Guinevere,” says Arthur. He pauses to kiss Merlin, sucking lightly on his lip in a way that drives Merlin mad.

“I want her to be happy, too.”

“She is.”

“She is?”

“ _Yes_ , Merlin. Now,” Arthur says, lowering Merlin back onto the bed, “have I assuaged your guilt? Will you let me serve you now?”

“That’s – Arthur, you can’t. I’m a servant.”

“Since when has that stopped you from doing anything?” Arthur retorts. “You love me. You said so.”

“Yes,” Merlin says, blushing.

“I love you,” Arthur says with a smile softer than the early morning light infiltrating their room through the undrawn curtains. “I want to show you. I want to make you feel good.”

“You _do_ make me feel good.”

“Merlin. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I want this to be real and fair, Merlin, not something that grew out of me being miserable and drunk and pathetic a few years ago,” Arthur says. “So you’re not my servant when we do this. You’re not a friend helping out a friend.”

“Then… what am I?”

“A clotpole. _My_ clotpole,” Arthur corrects himself. He leans down and kisses Merlin. He doesn’t let him go until he’s stroked Merlin to full hardness and he pulls back. Arthur moves his mouth down Merlin’s body, taking his time as he moves lower, lower, further than Arthur’s ever gone down on Merlin.

“Fuck! Arthur—”

He pulls off with an obscene _pop_.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

He looks so genuinely concerned Merlin can’t help but press a kiss to his forehead. He lies back again with a massive grin he can’t seem to stop, not when he has three utterly impossible words on loop in his head.

“Nope. Carry on.”

Arthur mirrors his dopey smile, his eyes twinkling in the growing morning light, before showing Merlin some of his own hidden talents.


End file.
